


Remembrance: A Man From U.N.C.L.E. FanFic

by Esgalnen



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Ceremony, Death, Emotional, F/M, Gen, Loss, Other, Rememberance, legacy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-01
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-09-21 07:32:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9538010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Esgalnen/pseuds/Esgalnen
Summary: I always wondered what happened to the people who were saved by U.N.C.L.E. and how they remembered the people who had saved them and the difference it made to their lives.  This is a stand alone story and could be considered slightly AU as it deals with the aftermath of a mission.Reviews are welcome but please don’t flame. Sarah and Lisa are my characters.





	

It was too much. Too much, thought Napoleon as he walked back along the silent corridors of Medical. They’d just lost another agent, she’d never regained consciousness despite Medical’s interventions. Napoleon had held her hand until she passed away, he never knew whether it gave the dying any comfort or whether it was to try and comfort himself. Either way it didn’t matter. He stopped one of the Medical Staff, “Where’s Lisa Smith?”  
“She was cleared ten minutes ago, sir,” the orderly replied, “merely cuts and bruises, there was no need to keep her.”  
“I see.” Napoleon replied, he rubbed a hand across his face suddenly weary. It wasn’t Lisa’s fault that Sarah had died, it was just all too much. “Is she still in the building?” he asked.  
“She’s with Mr Waverley now,” the orderly replied. Solo nodded his thanks and then sped up to Waverley’s office. Both parties turned when the door opened, Lisa asked, “Agent Paterson?”  
“She passed away ten minutes ago.” He said slowly.  
Lisa nodded and replied, “I’m sorry. She saved my life.”  
“Mr Solo, your attention please,” Waverley interrupted them. “If Miss Smith would wait outside I need to have five minutes alone with you.”  
Lisa nodded and then the two men were alone, Waverley sighed and reseated himself, “Days like these I sometimes wonder if I was right to allow women to enrol as Field Agents.”  
“It would have come sooner or later, sir.” Napoleon replied, “And if you hadn’t had the foresight to deal with it, your successor would have done.”  
Waverley looked up and Napoleon thought he caught a wry grin in his superior’s eyes, “And how would you have dealt with this problem? Not allowed female Field Agents?”  
He smiled, although it felt more like a grimace, “I’m just glad that it won’t be my problem, sir. Doubtless I will have enough problems if I do become U.N.C.L.E.’s chief of staff for the New York Office.”  
“Yes.” Waverley replied and looked down at the file. There was such a long pause that Napoleon wondered if his superior had fallen asleep, then he looked up and said, “There is a young woman outside with Miss Smith. I think that you and Mr Kuryakin should accompany them both.”  
“Where to, sir?” Napoleon asked, his heart sinking. He’d been looking forward to an evening off.  
“She will tell you. Her name’s Samantha by the way.” Then Waverley had pressed the button to open the door and Napoleon knew that he’d been dismissed.  
Lisa was waiting for him, but it was the other woman that caught Napoleon’s attention, she was standing with her back to him on Lisa Rogers’ telephone speaking softly into the receiver, “Yes. Sarah Jane Paterson. Yes, I have the lady she saved but how competent she’ll be I don’t know. Any others? Good. Yes, we’ll be there. She’ll be on the Honour Roll? I know this is short notice but thank you, Mike.” Then she’d replaced the receiver. She turned to face Napoleon and said softly, “Agent Solo? Samantha Dubrowski, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”  
“You have me at a disadvantage, Miss Dubrowski,” Napoleon replied, “I don’t believe that we have met.”  
She smiled, “We haven’t – but I know you by reputation.” She turned to the woman, “You must be Lisa Smith. I am sorry about your friend.”  
Lisa looked up and Napoleon saw her eyes were red rimmed, “She saved my life,” she whispered, “I was horrible to her and she still saved my life, but now she’s dead and there’s nothing I can do about it.”  
Samantha sat down next to her and put an arm around the woman’s shaking shoulders, “That’s why I’m here. We’re going to do something about it tonight and you’ll find that there is something you can do.”  
“Where are we going?” Napoleon asked. At that moment the door opened and Illya Kuryakin walked into the room, “Are we on assignment again,” he grumbled as he saw Napoleon, “I was looking forward to some lab work-” and then he saw Samantha and stopped.  
She on the other hand rose smoothly to her feet, her right hand extended, “Agent Kuryakin – it’s a pleasure to see you again.”  
Illya took the proferred hand, “You too, Miss Dubrowski. May I ask what brings you to U.N.C.L.E.?”  
“Another agent’s death,” she replied simply, “if you will come with me, gentlemen I will show you what I do now.”  
Warily Napoleon helped the still sniffling Lisa to her feet and they followed Samantha out of the Del Floria exit.  
“We’ve hired a room for the evening,” Samantha said conversationally, “Just two blocks down. Mike said that he’d add Agent Paterson to the Honour Roll for this evening and then one of our volunteers will add her name to the one we keep in the office.”  
“What has Agent Paterson got to do with all of this?” Napoleon asked quietly.  
“It isn’t just Agent Paterson,” Samantha replied, she looked up, “Ah. We’re here. Come on in, gentlemen. If you’d like to sit at the back, I’ll take Miss Smith up to the front.”  
Napoleon and Illya regarded one another quietly but did as they were asked. Gradually the hall began to fill up. Men and women of all ages. One or two looked tired and one at least moved as if everything above his waist was bandaged, but all looked grateful that they’d come. Eventually the hall was full to overflowing and then Samantha stood up and waited until the rustling died away and the room was silent. She cleared her throat and began to speak, “They dropped like Flakes, They dropped like Stars. Like petals from a Rose. When suddenly across the June – A Wind with Fingers goes.” She paused for a moment and then continued, “They perished in the seamless grass. No eye could find the place, but God can summon every face – on his repealless list.”  
She paused for a moment and then she said, “As you know, we gather every month to recount stories of heroism by those unsung heroes of U.N.C.L.E. who have died on active service so that they will not be forgotten and their actions will count for something. This emergency meeting was called because I regret to tell you that Agent Sarah Jane Paterson died this evening. She was one of the first female Enforcement Agents for U.N.C.L.E. and I know that she helped save at least two people here tonight. I would ask them to come forward and tell their stories.” She sat down and then a man got up and began to speak and despite themselves, Illya and Napoleon found themselves listening. After the first two stories others stood up to tell stories of other U.N.C.L.E. Agents until finally a young woman stood up and said, “This is my mother’s story, but she died last year and I promised to tell this story so that this Agent will not be forgotten. If he had not saved her, I would not exist.” She cleared her throat and began, “My mother first encountered Agent Nate Cassidy-” and suddenly Napoleon was all ears.  
Eventually the story was over and Napoleon was suddenly acutely aware of the silence in the room. Then Samantha stood up and cleared her throat, “All of us here owe our lives to U.N.C.L.E. and it is up to us and our descendants to make sure that these agents are not forgotten. The Agent who lost her life tonight will never be forgotten, we will make sure of that. So, we end with the poem that began this evening.” She cleared her throat, “They dropped like Flakes – They dropped like Stars; Like petals from a Rose. When suddenly across the June, A Wind with fingers goes.” She paused, “They perished in the seamless grass, no eye could find the place. But God on his repealless list; Can summon every face.”  
Napoleon and Illya waited until the room was empty and Samantha came over to them. “Are you two all right?”  
Napoleon nodded, suddenly silent. Illya said quietly, “How long have you been doing this?”  
“About five years now,” Samantha responded, a smile curving her lips, “Something I realised after you’d pulled my skin out of the fire.”  
“So whenever an U.N.C.L.E. agent dies-”  
Samantha smiled tightly, “It isn’t quite that simple. When an U.N.C.L.E. Agent dies Mr Waverley will call me, or one of my colleagues into his office and we’ll look at the Agent’s dossier. Chances are that there is someone who can talk about this agent and how their lives were enriched by the experience. Sometimes the person is too upset, or still in hospital or is too traumatised. In those cases then one of my colleagues, or myself will stand up, announce the agent’s tragic death and tell their story. When the person who was saved has recovered then we approach them and ask if they will stand up and tell their story. Most oblige.”  
“And if they don’t, or you can’t go into details?” Illya asked.  
“Then I or one of my colleagues will do the honours. Sometimes it’s a brief resume of the agent’s life if there’s no-one left to tell their story. Sometimes the agent is just a footnote in history, what I want to do is to make sure that the agent isn’t forgotten, that for one brief moment in history they stood against the forces of evil. That must count for something.”  
“Yes,” Illya replied, “but someone could say that this is just futile.”  
“Perhaps,” she smiled, “but part of being human is to fight the encroaching darkness. Did not Dylan Thomas say ‘Do not go gentle into that good night’.”  
“Old age should burn and rave at close of day,” Illya murmured.  
Samantha smiled, “Will you see Miss Smith back to U.N.C.L.E. headquarters?”  
“We will,” Napoleon promised, he turned to her as they left the building, “Thank you.” He said simply, “It’s good that you’re doing this.”  
“What they did, and what you do should count for something. You heard Elise tonight, if Agent Cassidy hadn’t saved her mother, she wouldn’t exist.”  
Napoleon nodded again, “My thanks. I think you saved my life tonight.”  
“No, I just restored your hope.” Sarah smiled and held out her hand, “We’ll meet again, Mr Solo, and one hopes in happier circumstances.”  
“Yes,” he shook her hand, “I hope so too.”

  
**End**

**Author's Note:**

> Do not own the Man From U.N.C.L.E. or any of the characters, I have just taken these characters out of their shoe box to play with them for a while.


End file.
